


Someone Who Speaks Your Language

by wmblake



Series: Clint Barton Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: American Sign Language, Clint Barton Bingo 2019, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 17:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21103625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wmblake/pseuds/wmblake
Summary: Clint Barton doesn't fit into the crowd of donors and philanthropists and socialites, even at a fundraiser hosted by his own team. It's for a good cause, but he—he struggles with it.At least he's got a friend willing to take him away from it all.





	Someone Who Speaks Your Language

**Author's Note:**

> Clint Barton Bingo: Trust

Clint winced. This wasn’t as bad as it looked, he swore. It just—

He sat apart from the banquet, thankfully mostly unrecognized, watching people from the corner of his eye—pointedly not looking at their mouths, not wanting to learn what donors were saying about the poor children—

He stared at his hands, flicking a coin between his fingers, hearing aids off because he didn’t want to hear, wasn’t looking so he couldn’t piece the words together anyway, wasn’t—

A tap on his shoulder jarred his head up.

“C-L-I-N-T?” Tony signed, slow and separating his letters. Brow drawn together, raised, must’ve been worried. Wasn’t even wearing his sunglasses to hide it, the idiot, what was he— “You O-K?”

“Yeah,” Clint signed back, half-heartedly bobbing his fist twice. He sighed. “Loud.”

Tony nodded. He offered a mug of coffee to Clint with a small, tight smile.

“I’m O-K,” Clint reaffirmed, and then took the coffee with a returning nod. “Thanks.” Even with his fingers hardly leaving his chin, Clint rolled his eyes at Tony’s growing smile. Clint swore, by the end of the week—maybe less—Tony would be as fluent in ASL as he was. Damn genius and his damn information retention. Still, it was nice, having someone around who would—could—sign when Natasha wasn’t around. Clint hated having to read lips.

“You want to talk?”

Clint frowned. “No,” he said. “Shut up,” he added, for good measure.

Tony grinned. “Idiot. Talk.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I can guess. B-U-C—”

Clint batted his hand down, eyes wide and glancing across the room, to the fundraiser’s crowd, gawking at the other Avengers—Steve and Thor, mostly. _“No,”_ Clint emphasized, pinky extended. He looked at Tony’s face long enough to glare at him.

“Not looking, you know.”

_As always._ Clint scowled. “I know.”

“So then, big deal? We both know—”

“Stop.” He screwed his face up, staring into his coffee. “Later. Please?” He glanced back at Tony’s hands. Watched his shoulders drop with a sigh.

“Yes. Fine. Later.” Tony pursed his lips. Clint could practically count the seconds until he’d start speaking again: three, two, one— “Later you tell me what’s really bothering you? Or just easy-way-out answers?”

Clint hunched his shoulders. Shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“No.”

He glared at Tony. “Fine. Not nothing.” He gestured towards the crowd with a nod. Set the coffee mug down on the counter. “Them. Gawking. Rich people who don’t know what it’s like for the little guy, for the kids that have nothing. Sure, they’ll donate money and smile and write off some tax deduction shit, but they’ll—they’ll forget these kids and some of them won’t ever get out of the system until they age out, and—” Clint stopped. Tony was frowning at Clint’s hands—too fast, maybe. “Sorry. Too fast? I just meant—”

“No. Tax—” Tony mimicked Clint, holding out his left hand and dropping his right hand into a fist. Oh.

“D-E-D-U-C-T-I-O-N,” Clint spelled out. “Same sign as T-A-K-E A-W-A-Y and S-U-B-T-R-A-C-T.”

Tony nodded. “Some, sure, are here for tax deduction, then,” he agreed, “but I invited some couples—looking for kids. To take home. They’ll donate and stay longer. To ask questions. What they need to know about adopting kids from the system, if there are any classes they should take, if taking kids to see a therapist would be helpful and, if so, which are best for helping kids out—some mean well.” Tony smiled. “Some kids are getting homes soon.”

“What?”

“And those couples will tell all the couples they know who want kids—I couldn’t invite them all, but I got the most influential ones, plus some words about not separating siblings—”

“You did all that?”

“Of course.” Tony frowned. “The kids deserve good homes.”

Clint swallowed. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.” He rubbed his eyes. “Sorry, thanks, I just—”

Tony caught Clint’s hands between his, slow and gentle and movements broadcasted—he smiled. Soft. Clint looked at the ground, unable to keep watching him. Tony squeezed his hands. Waited for Clint to look back up.

“Want to leave?” he signed, slower than necessary. “P-E-P can make sure the rest of them stay in line. She’ll weasel more money from donors than I can anyway.” He frowned at Clint’s abandoned coffee mug. “Want to get some actual coffee? Then spend the night in the lab? I’ve got some new ideas for arrows, could use an expert to test them out before I make too many—while we’re out for coffee, I’ll like F-R-I know to start making some—no one will bother us.” Tony looked up at Clint with a small smile. “Please?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, sure. Only because you’re promising actual coffee. Better be good.”

“The best my money can buy. Without involving a plane ticket.” Tony grinned. Clint couldn’t help but grin back. “Let’s go?” Clint nodded. He shoved his hearing aids into his pocket. Tony led him out of the fundraiser, past the donors—all clamoring for attention—and to the car. Happy opened the door for them.

Clint signed, “Thank you,” but saw Tony’s mouth move—face half-turned from him—for the first time all night. He patted the hearing aids in his pocket, frowning. Tony climbed into the back of the car with him. Clint stared at his lap.

Tony tapped the back of his hand. “O-K?” he asked. Clint looked over to him. Tony was frowning again. “You good, bird?”

Clint’s mouth twitched at the nickname. “Coffee?”

“Deflection. But yes, coffee. Best place in the city.” Tony picked at Clint’s sleeve. “Hug?”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Car?”

“So?” Tony smiled. “Coffeeshop’s about twenty minutes away. Hug?” Clint rolled his eyes. He lifted his arm. Tony settled beneath it in half a heartbeat. “I like this,” he signed, a little awkward with his right arm pressed against Clint’s chest.

Clint rested his chin on Tony’s head. “Same.”

Streetlights flickered past, dim through the tinted windows, and Clint smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at w-m-blake.tumblr.com


End file.
